


Ripped Endings of New Beginnings

by rareformofwolfsbane



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Demon!Dean, Hunter!Cas, M/M, Role Reversal, Vague mention and use of time manipulation?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 13:05:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rareformofwolfsbane/pseuds/rareformofwolfsbane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel crawled his way out of an unmarked grave, remembering nothing but his own name and the tail end of a whispered apology.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripped Endings of New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd, so any mistakes you spot are mine. Finally cross-posted from tumblr, where the fic was born by staring at a picture of (Misha) hunter!cas for too long at 3am. Will possibly remain a drabble, unless I find the story's train of thought again.

Castiel crawled his way out of an unmarked grave, remembering nothing but his own name and the tail end of a whispered apology. He blinks against the brightness of the sun, body layed out on the hard, rocky earth layered with dry grass; torn, bloodied fingers curling in the dirt beside his head as tremors racked his body. Disoriented, Cas rolls his head to the side, wincing at the scratch of dried grass against his cheek, to try and gauge his surroundings. It was quiet, and Castiel suspected there’s nobody nearby. Nothing, but the open stretch of road that seemingly lead nowhere either way.

He groans as he climbs to his feet, legs wobbly and blinks down at his attire, dirty and worn, trembling fingers brush along the lapels of his tan coat, down the dark button-up to his worn jeans, and frowns. The coat feels familiar, a sense of comfort and security, whereas the jeans (and boots) feel odd and heavy; like he should not be wearing them. 

Castiel shakes his head, his attire not important, and takes a deep breath, the dry, desert heat filling his lungs. He takes a moment, to consider the road that stretches out before him, trying to gather his thoughts. Thinks about the how and why he’s alive. Thoughts of who brought him back. He needs to [find out](http://rareformofwolfsbane.tumblr.com/post/53894413660/castiel-crawled-his-way-out-of-an-unmarked-grave) who himself is. 

He needs to find a town.

He licks dry, chapped lips. Swallows against the dryness of his throat and an itch in the back of his mind tells him to go left. 

The passing of time is indiscernable (Castiel’s thorough pat-down unearths nothing but a long dead [pre-paid phone](http://rareformofwolfsbane.tumblr.com/post/53894413660/castiel-crawled-his-way-out-of-an-unmarked-grave) that has a crack running down the middle of the screen), his boots hitting against the worn, cracked road in a steady rhythm that seems to echo across the empty land. The sun is high in the sky, the heat making the air itself tremble, and it rolls along his shoulders, makes his shirt and jeans stick to his body; having already shed his coat once he’d passed two cacti seemingly bowing to one another what seemed like hours ago.

Castiel swiped the back of his hand against his forehead, over his eyes to rub away the sweat and tugged his shirt away from his chest where sweat had already clung too, fanning it briefly, and the subtle wind was a reprieve against his overheated skin. Thirst clawed the back of his throat and Cas licked his dry lips, grimacing at the taste of [salt](http://rareformofwolfsbane.tumblr.com/post/53894413660/castiel-crawled-his-way-out-of-an-unmarked-grave) and dirt, and soldiered on with an exhausted sigh.

By the time he finds a rundown gas station, his feet feel raw, visible skin sunburnt and dizzy with thirst. His eyes squint through the waves rolling almost lazily through the air and Cas wheezes in relief, picking up the pace and tapping sluggishly on the window. When no [answer](http://rareformofwolfsbane.tumblr.com/post/53894413660/castiel-crawled-his-way-out-of-an-unmarked-grave) came, he cupped his hands on the grimy windows and peeked through and was relieved and dismayed that it was abandoned. 

He uses his elbow to break the glass, hissing quietly at the bite of stray shards as he reaches in to turn the handle and made his way over to the small fridge, pulling out two bottles of thankfully cool water, his relief of slightly cool air against heated skin drowned out by the relief of finally quenching his aching thirst.

Castiel sank against the wall, downing the water in three swallows, and leans his head back, closing his eyes for just a moment. He breathes deeply, thirst finally abated and stretches his legs out in front him, unscrewing the other bottle of water to pour into his hand and run it over his face, before using the rest to pour over his head. His fingers are tangled in his hair when he feels the itch again, the same itch that told him to go left and Castiel is immediately on alert, body coiling for an attack and reaching for a weapon he doesn’t have. Something tells him to get salt, line the door and windows, and he’s already off the ground and moving before he fully registers the meaning of why.

It doesn’t matter, because whatever he was supposedly warding off, is already here.

 

* * *

 

 


End file.
